The Last Wall She'll Paint for You
by FriendlyNeighborhoodDinoTor
Summary: A song fiction of "The Last Song I'm Wasting on You" by Evanescence. A girl is troubled by her wretched past. Rated T for disturbing references.


**"The Last Song I'm Wasting on You"**

**a Song fic by: Tori McDonald**

**About the song by: Evanescence**

Sitting in the small white hospital room, she looked at her scars, they were fading after all these years...

**"Sparkling grey, they're my own veins....**

She was reminded of her younger days, the days that were supposed to be innocent and grand, they left her with bitter memories. All she could remember were the silent dinners,

**Any more than a whisper...**

The storyless and "I love you"-less bedtimes,

**Any slightest movement of my heart...**

And the deaths of the only ones who wanted that for her.

**And I know, I know I'll have to watch them pass away...**

"Hello Charlotte," The middle aged balding doctor entered the room with a big fake smile on, Charlotte recognized the smile because she used it everyday. She wondered what might be wrong withe the doctor, ironically. Charlotte copied the fake beaming smile, out of politeness. "How are you today?"

Charlotte gave him a thumbs up. She didn't find it neccessary to write "I'm doing fine" on the notepad around her neck. All she wanted to do was return to home to paint her walls, so she could move again to paint new ones. That was her life, living quietly, taking notice of everything everyone else didn't. That was her entire life. She just wanted back in her miserable depressing life.

**Just make it through this day...**

"Have you tried your speaking excercises yet?" The doctor asked looking at his clipboard. Charlotte smiled with a small child's smile and shook her head. The doctor gave her a clicking tongue noise. "Charlotte, you are 27 years old... You'll have to be able to communicate with others using something other than a notepad, you don't even use sign language. You have to be able to talk."

**Change your ways....**

"More options for careers can open up when you use your voice, Charlotte, you know that?" The doctor asked her, she had her head down in shame. She liked being a quiet artist. "You can be just about anything when you can talk,"

**You can be anything...**

"I've seen your work, Charlotte, you are an excellent artist. But you could be capable of so much more. You have to try." Charlotte wanted to tell him that she was an artist, nothing more and nothing less. A true artist, that was Charlotte Quirk, not what the doctor wanted her to be.

**Change my ways and lose myself....**

She didn't want to try to use her voice, she liked it being gone.

**But not today...**

After all, she had used her talents in art, the only talents she's ever known, all of her life...

_"You've got to promise Mommy you'll grow up to be a big artist someday, okay?" Charlotte's mother said holding a young six year old pigtailed girl with a paper in her hand, a drawing of a family: Mother, Father, Daughter, and hampster._

_"Okay, Momma," Charlotte gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. Then she heard the front door slam and her mother set Charlotte down at the table and stuck the drawing in her coat pocket. He couldn't see any affection, not in this house..._

She promised...

**There's too much guilt to pay...**

"We're going to run a few tests on you now, Charlotte," The doctor gave her a fake smile that Charlotte decided not to return this time. There were lights shoved in her ears and throat, needles pulling blood, and all kinds of painful things. The heat of the bulb reminded her of the boiling days she had to stay out.

_"You need to go outside, Charlotte," He mother would tell her. "The big man says you need fresh air and excercise," Almost no emotion to match, she would smile at her and send her out with a bucket of thick colored chalk and she'd set to work. _

_Sometimes Charlotte would hear her mother cry out, not too loud, but loud enough to worry Charlotte. But the sun was so hot, she would have to ignore it to figure a way to keep cool without going inside. Sometimes, she wouldn't be able to keep cool, and would become ill from heat poisoning._

**Sickened in the sun...**

_But it was,"for her own good," they would say. She would vomit in the bushes, so no one would see, and it would not be a good time with mother nature. _

They sent Charlotte off, she was off to the next appointment, the one she hated the most: The psychaiatrist...

---

"Charlotte?" They called into the waiting room. "Are you ready for your appointment?" Charlotte stood without the fake smile this time around, she knew it wouldn't matter in the end. He shut the door, locked it even. "Have a seat on the couch, Charlotte," She knew what that meant. No too deep into the session... Things... Memories would be brought up. "How are you today?"

Charlotte gave a shrug as she sat down. He thought he was her friend. He thought he understood. He knew nothing. Charlotte could safely say he was the second dumbest person on earth. He knew Charlotte wouldn't say anything, he could do anything he wanted, and that he did. Anything. Before her heart could sink, she was out of her clothes. Why did everyone want this? Why? Her father... Her doctor... Who else wanted her to hate herself? Who?

_"You stupid girl! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" He threw Charlotte to the ground and beat her in the chest with every insult. "Why did you ruin her life? Why?! She had a future and you ruined it!" He ripped her shirt off and clawed into her back. "You ugly piece of nothing!" Charlotte's head spun and skipped around her memory, the next moment being her completely naked and soiled in his filth. Her everything was bleeding. She cried for her mother, she cried for God, she cried for anyone, anyone to come and give her clothing and give her innocence back. That's when he came back... He threw his massiveness on the girl, her pleas driving him farther, leaving more bruises. There was nothing she could do... She was an ugly piece of nothing,_

_Better yet, _

_She was ripped open at every seem,_

_Her heart longed for her first to come back to her,_

_She was 10._

_But as her mother was slowly dying of AIDS, all he could do was tell Charlotte he loved her. He told her everyday, when her mother left for nightly hospital treatments, that he wished someone more useful wold take my place on this earth. Then he would touch her, she would cry, and he would touch her more. She would scream at him, and he would strike her, and touch her more._

**You dare to tell me you love me... But you held me down and screamed you wanted me to die...**

And as this doctor made her filthy, thinking it was because they had a connection, an understanding, she kept thinking of him... The nights of being touched, the nights of being nothing. She also silently celebrated a victory that this doctor would possibly die of AIDS, for she's told no one of her mother having this illness, for she chose not to speak, and this was her strength. And she hoped this doctor would rot in this illness.

---

And as she walked home, she thought of the times, he lied to her. That rat that shared her DNA. The one who told her that was how daddy's loved their little girls. No pain... That was how it would always feel.

**Honey you know, you know I'd never hurt you that way...**

He would tell her she was turning out like her beautiful mother.

**You're just too pretty in your pain...**

_"You need to go to jail, you bastard!" Her mother threw a picture frame down on the ground._

_"You don't have any proof of anything, Darlene!" He would stand in the doorway watching her pack. He seemed all too calm for getting caught with hurting their daughter... He knew he had a victory lined up... Charlotte was now 13 and thought at a faster rate, smarter than others her age. _

_"You're a sick, sick man, Rick," She stood before him with her arms crossed and her eyes watered. "You need help,"_

**Change my ways...**

_"I need help?" He sounded shocked, like he was being framed for something, like he'd done nothing wrong._

_"Yeah, Rick, you need help, maybe you would actually be working instead of staying at home being a little freak with my daughter."_

**I could be anything...**

_"She's my daughter, too, Darlene," Rick glared at her with a solemn voice. Darlene knocked over the lamp. _

_"Not anymore, we're leaving, Charlotte won't have you doing this, I won't have you doing this. You need to stay away from us, you sick, pathetic, piece of shit! _

_"And how are you going to do anything without me? Huh? I'm your money, I'm your everything, Darlene, and the moment you leave, is the moment you die."_

_"I'll find a way. I'll find a way for Charlotte."_

**I'll make my own way... Without your senseless hate...**

_"But I love you Darlene," He got choked up._

**Hate...**

_"Don't lie to me, Rick, I'm done!" She pulled her out of the bedroom, her Wal-Mart sack in hand. _

**Hate...**

_The two stepped out of the tiny house, made it halfway across the lawn when Rick shouted "Wait!" Out to them._

_That's when her mother died._

**Hate...**

It took one too many court trials to get out of hell, but she was still in it.

**So round...**

She was trapped in doctor's offices for life, only they knew of her AIDS. She had her embarrassing tests prepared for her every single day.

**Round...**

Then there was the psychaiatrist... The psychaiatrist and his filth. The filth of her father.

**Round...**

She always knew all Rick wanted was someone to mess with. It did no good if they smiled, so he had to hurt them, and Charlotte was a close and young target. It gave him power. It gave him hope and power, knowing no one would hear of what he'd done, until now.

**And hate me, if it feels good...**

As long as his cries of her being a worthless nothing were but echoes, she could cope with herself to an extent.

**I can't hear your screams anymore...**

All of the "I love you"s... "This is how daddy's love"s... All of it.

**You lied to me...**

She finally understood after all these years.

**But I'm older now, and I'm not buying baby...**

He always asked if I loved him. Wouldn't leave until she would say something. As she recalled him stroking her skin asking the same questions, she shut the gray house's tiny door.

**Demanding my response...**

He was still after her, that was for certain, but he'd never catch her. He could never have her. It was pointless. She knew that he was scared to love his family. So he tried hating them. And he liked it. Hating made him stronger. As he became strong, he was addicted to hating. So he had to hate her, everynight. Because he would become weak without the hatred. She could still feel the fear sitting alone at night. The banging on the door and the pleading voice to let him in, and the door clicking open.

**Don't bother breaking the door down...**

But he would never find her... Would he? Would his addiction lead him right to her? Was she ever safe?

**I found my way out...**

She had to be. She was 27 years old, it had been ten years since she'd even breathed his air. But he'd always be there. He'd always hurt her, he'd always hate her, he'd always thrive off of her, sub-conciously. But he'd always be there to feed off of her undying fear. He'd always hurt her. But the blow would never come, and that hurt almost just as bad.

**And you'll never hurt me again."**


End file.
